


Would I Spend Forever Here?- Moathal

by Ride4812



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:42:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29233218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ride4812/pseuds/Ride4812
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 1
Kudos: 30





	Would I Spend Forever Here?- Moathal

Staring at Mickey from across the fields was one of Ian’s favorite pastimes, surpassed only by the time he spent in closer proximity to his lover. Though it had been nearly two years since the former king had absconded his throne, it was still unbelievable to Ian that Mickey was in Galway, living in the modest house and working the land. He’d never dared to dream of the day while he served His Grace’s court in Cardiff. It was too dangerous to consider what would have had to happen for Mickey to have the freedom to leave, too selfish for Ian to hope for it. But, there he was, wearing the clothes of a peasant while harvesting hazelnuts from the abundantly blooming tree at the north end of Ian’s potato farm.

“You won’t believe how many are ready!” Mickey called, his beaming smile visible even from a distance. “I have two baskets full already, might even get three.”

“Wow!” Ian shouted back, giving his man an excited wave. “That’s great.” He grinned as Mickey proudly presented one of the baskets. 

“Look.”

“I see.”

“Come closer,” Mickey ordered. “Seriously, you’ve never seen a haul like this.”  
Ian didn’t have the heart to tell him that he’d had some epic hazelnut harvests long before Mickey had to use his hands for anything other than signaling someone’s head off. He crossed the field, intent on celebrating Mickey’s accomplishment with all of the pomp and circumstance that it deserved. Any happiness that Mickey found in Galway was ten times happier for Ian, assuring him that his lover didn’t think giving up all he’d sacrificed was a mistake.  
And if Ian was a religious man, he would have been thanking the Lord for how happy Mickey was, in Ireland and in Ian’s company. It was an immense relief and Ian made it his goal to ensure that Mickey’s disposition didn’t change over time. Mickey was going to spent forever there and Ian wanted him to be satisfied with his decision, with him. 

“Can you believe it?” Mickey exclaimed, giving one of the full baskets a gentle nudge with the toe of his boot. “It’s overflowing.” He pointed to the second basket. “This one too.”

“This is amazing, Mick,” Ian said, making sure he’s eyes were wide as he leaned down to dip his hand into the bounty of nuts. 

Mickey patted the trunk of the tree. “She’s been good to me.”

Ian glanced up at the hazelnuts still hanging off of the branches. “It must be twice the amount of last year. What did you do differently?” He knew the answer. After all, Mickey spoke about his watering regime ad nauseam. 

“It’s the watering,” Mickey stated, as if he was letting Ian in on a secret and not repeating something that he’d said at least forty times a week. “Every morning I’ve been dumping two buckets at her feet. Doing the same just before the sun goes down...”

“It’s incredible,” Ian crooned, wrapping his arms around Mickey’s waist in hopes of shifting the brunet’s attention from the baskets to his lips. “You’re incredible.”

Mickey grinned and gave Ian the kiss he was waiting for. “I’m still thinking about my nuts,” Mickey muttered into Ian’s mouth. 

“I’m thinking about them, too,” Ian promised, sliding his hand down the front of Mickey’s pants. 

“Hey, hey,” Mickey chuckled. “I got paste to make.”

“There’s so many places that I can go with that,” Ian laughed. 

“Yeah, but the only place you’re gonna go is into the kitchen,” Mickey stated, bending to grab one of the baskets and thrust it into Ian’s blistered hands. “With this.”

“I wanted to work on something else,” Ian tsked, following dutifully behind Mickey. At least, he had a good view. 

“I know you did, but I have things to do, Gallagher. I have a purpose.”

“And It’s still the hazelnuts?”

The question earned Ian a very aggravated glare.

“Is breá liom tú (I love you),” Ian said. “Agus do chnónna coill (and your hazelnuts).”

“Is breá liom tú níos mó. Fiú nuair a chuir tú moill orm (I love you more, even when you annoy me).”

“Tá do chuid Gaeilge ag éirí níos fearr (Your Gaelic is getting better).”

“Ag obair air (Working on it).”

“But not as much as the hazelnuts...” Ian joked.

Mickey rolled his eyes as he placed his basket on the table and gestured for Ian to drop his on the counter. 

“I’ll work on these first,” Mickey decided, grabbing is mortar and pestle and taking a seat in his grinding chair. “I have a batch from yesterday that we can take to the markets this afternoon, but I want to get another few bowls going before we make the trip.”

“Sounds good. I’ll go get cleaned up so I’m in prime negotiating mode.” He smirked at Mickey, who sighed in response.

“You have to tell them that we want their best meat and cheese this time. The last batch wasn’t worthy of my nuts.”

Ian bit his tongue before making another joke, knowing his lover wouldn’t find it funny. He was learning, but it was a slow process—just like Mickey’s Gaelic. “I will.”

“Thanks,” Mickey said, hard at work on his mashing. 

Ian watched him with more admiration than he could have ever had for anyone else. Mickey was born with four silver spoons in his mouth, but he wasn’t defined by the riches that had been bestowed upon him. He was driven by love and an innate motivation that he never needed to have. 

“Go get ready,” Mickey chided as he continued to focus on his hazelnuts.

Catching a glimpse of the smile on Mickey’s lips, Ian smiled, too, glad his man knew that Ian loved to see him doing his work so happily. 

“You should make some extra for Mandy,” Ian suggested. “She told me the baby loves it.”

“That little shit isn’t even born yet and already has requests?” Mickey chided without malice. 

“I hear it has royal blood. The royals always have requests, right?” Ian teased.

“You never complain about my requests when they include you hitting it harder,” Mickey retorted, raising an eyebrow.

“I live to serve the king.”

“Oh yeah? Where is he?” 

“The king of hazelnuts,” Ian amended. “I’ve never seen anyone grow them better.”

Mickey nodded, clearly amused by the comment. “I’ll take it.”

“And I’ll take a bath,” Ian said, exciting the room. “I won’t be long.”

“Better not be,” Mickey warned. “We have paste to sell.”

“And I can’t wait,” Ian promised. 

It was the truth. There was nothing he loved more than seeing the pride in Mickey’s eyes when his hard work earned them delicacies they would be otherwise denied.  
Francis’ legacy didn’t exactly make Ian or Lip the pride of Galway. Though they weren’t ostracized, the trust they’d garnered before the Wales debacle had depleted. One would have thought that Francis’ work on behalf of Ireland would have been honorable, but it was the general consensus that his betrayal of the Welsh throne had led to England’s conquering of Wales, a move that weakened Ireland’s standing while strengthening that of their enemy. 

The smear on his family’s name didn’t matter much to Ian unless it affected Mickey. And luckily, the hazelnut paste had turned out to be more than enough compensation for people to look past the Gallaghers’ reputation. The merchants on the port of Galway loved a delicacy, and save Ian’s bias, Mickey’s was the best around. 

The quality of the paste made it an easy sale, but that didn’t mean that Ian had an easy time selling it—mostly because Mickey was intimidating during the negotiations. Though he couldn’t speak fluent Gaelic, he inserted himself in the discussions as much as possible, either by telling Ian what to do or getting pissed off by a tradesman’s “insulting” offers. And Ian fucking loved it. Everything Mickey did was insanely cute to him, even when he was ornery. 

“I want goat cheese,” Mickey stated as they walked toward the first shop, a clay bowl of maothal in his hands.

“What about a goat? We could probably get a goat.”

“You’d want to name it and make fucking friends. The last thing we need is an animal.”

“I meant its meat. For us to eat...”

Mickey scoffed seeing right through Ian’s lie. “No you didn’t.”

“Whatever,” Ian sighed walking toward the shop owner. “Dia dhuit (Hello).”

“Dia dhuit (Hello),” the old man greeted. “Conas is féidir liom cabhrú leat (How can I help you)?”

“We have a specialty for you.”

Mickey approached the counter and placed the bowl down for the merchant to see the contents. When the old man crinkled his nose up in confusion, Ian began his pitch.

“It's a hazelnut paste. The nuts are from a tree on our farm. Mickey mashes them and adds a secret ingredient to make it even sweeter than the natural nut."

Mickey held his hand out as in indication that the man should try it and they watched with anticipation as he dunked his wrinkly finger into the paste and then brought it to his mouth. 

“Tá sé sobhlasta (It’s delicious),” the merchant complimented.

“He said it’s delicious,” Ian informed. 

The statement had Mickey smiling from ear to ear and uttered the one phrase he always said during their sales trips. “Is delicacy é, i ndáiríre (It’s a delicacy really).”  
Ian licked the grin off his mouth, patted Mickey’s arm, and focused on the business at hand. “Nílimid ag súil le hairgead ach táimid sásta babhtáil le haghaidh cáis agus feola (We don't expect money but are willing to barter for cheese and meat).”

The old man nodded and turned to look at his inventory. 

“Samplaí den cháis agus den fheoil is fearr atá agat. B'fhearr gabhar,” Ian added. 

Mickey gave him a quick nudge in his rib, waiting for the translation.

“I asked him for the best cheeses and meat he has. Preferably goat.”

Nodding his approval, Mickey uttered, “Good.”

“Seo dhuit (Here you go),” the owner said handing Ian a bowl that contained a hefty helping of provisions. “Tabhair níos mó dom an tseachtain seo chugainn. Is breá le mo bhean chéile é.” 

Ian nodded and shook the merchant’s hand, gesturing for Mickey to do the same. 

“Go raibh maith agat (Thank you).”

“What’d he say?” Mickey whispered as they exited the shop.

“To bring him more next week because his wife will love it,” Ian reported, loving the way Mickey’s face lit up from the adulation. 

“It is really good.”

“The best,” Ian confirmed, placing his free hand on the small of Mickey’s back. “And we’re going to eat like kings tonight.”

Mickey clicked his tongue. “Gallagher.”

“What?” Ian asked with mock innocence. “Should I have said ‘I’m going to eat the king tonight’ instead?”

“That might have been a little better,” Mickey smirked. 

“Well believe me, I’m going to feast.”

They exchanges amused looks and continued on their way home.


End file.
